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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2062067
by Autumn
Rated: ASR · Short Story · Contest Entry · #2062067
Done for The Weekly Image Prompt Contest
He cautiously approached one of the hulking piles of rust, keeping low, listening for the shout that would notify him and the others they were now being pursued. He and the other children were forbidden from playing on this stretch of sand ever since last year when one of the... what had the elders of the village call it? A ship... had fallen over, crushing to children who had been napping in its shade. Most had fallen, but sometimes the sands would shift as the earth shook, loosening the foundation.

He crept closer to one that reminded him of a picture he had seen in one of the elder's books. He remembered the day because he had reached out to touch the colorful image, shocked by the blue surrounding the ship, water, he had been told, and had received several lashes across the back of his hand for his efforts. Apprenticed to that very elder now, there were times he was allowed permission to touch the small collection of books. He was learning to decipher the strange markings that covered many of the pages as part of his apprenticeship. He knew that where he was standing now, many cycles ago, he would be underwater and all these rusting hulks would have been floating on top of it, despite their weight.

He heard a faint shout, the game had started. He crept closer to the ship, and slipped into the hull through a large hole. He couldn't venture further into the dark to explore, but he knew he would not be found in here. He could let his imagination soar, weaving new tales using what he had deciphered from the books, had heard from the elders, and adding his own vivid twists.
© Copyright 2015 Autumn (aturner at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2062067